


Cards and Cabins

by benevolentmonolithicc



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Martin's Middle Name is Keats, Romantic Fluff, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24792277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benevolentmonolithicc/pseuds/benevolentmonolithicc
Summary: Martin tapped Jon on the nose. “And you haven’t answered the question.”“Fine,” laughed Jon. "I do have a crush.”“Should I be jealous?” Martin asked, wiggling his eyebrows.Jon nodded solemnly.“Oh definitely. He’s very handsome. Stupid middle name, but his tea is to die for.”Martin was blushing fiercely. “Just pick a card, Jon.”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 273





	Cards and Cabins

It took about two days for the adrenaline and the sheer relief of being able to be with one another to wear off. That’s when it became crushingly apparent that there wasn’t a lot to do in Daisy’s Scottish safe house. It was on day three that Jon and Martin went around the little cabin picking up things to do and piling them in front of the couch. There were, in total, twelve DVDs (two of which were _Die Hard)_ , a massive old TV that had to be wheeled out on a rusting black cart, four board games, and a card game, still in its original packaging, untouched. Why exactly Daisy had any sort of multiplayer games in her safe house Martin couldn’t say for certain and Jon didn’t feel like Knowing, but it didn’t matter. It was nice to have them all the same.

It was another two days that Jon and Martin spent watching movies, including both copies of _Die Hard,_ though they spent the ladder watch making out. And then that just left the games. It was the card game that caught the attention of the happy couple, it’s worn Target 25% off sticker shining bright red through its dusty veneer. Martin tore off the packaging like a child on Christmas to reveal a little white box with the words _IceBreakers_ written on it in a loopy, pale blue font.

“Why’d you think she bought this?” Martin asked, holding the box aloft.

Jon tapped the sticker. “It’s 25% off,” he replied. “A bargain.”

And that was the last time either of them thought about the card game in it’s white and blue box until they’d finished all of the other games. There are only so many times you can play Monopoly Jr. before you itch for anything else. So there they were, sitting cross-legged in front of each other on the floor between the couch and where they’d rolled the ancient TV, the cards in between them.

Martin drew first. He looked at Jon, deadly serious, and placed the card on the ground with a flourish. “What,” he read. “Is your favorite color?”

“That’s the question?” Jon picked up the card and laughed. “Green, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Jon readjusted his position on the floor, leaning on the couch. “Well, I’ve never really thought about it.” 

“How have you never thought about it?” Martin demanded. “It’s your favorite color! Did you not go to primary school?”

“I did, but that doesn’t mean my favorite color was a topic of hot contention.”

“What else is there to talk about in primary school? Taxes?”

“Fine then,” Jon groused. “Yellow.”

“Why yellow?” Martin asked.

Jon shrugged at him. “It’s a happy color. Warm.”

“Alright then.”

“You’ll allow it?” Jon grinned at Martin teasingly.

“I’ll allow it,” Martin agreed. “Pick a card.”

Jon pulled a card from the top of the deck and cleared his throat. “What’s your middle name?”

“Well that’s a big assumption,” said Martin.

“What is, that you have a middle name?” Jon raised an eyebrow. “Do you not?”

“No, I...I’ve got one,” Martin stammered, bushing some hair behind his ear in a way that made Jon’s heart do summersaults. “It’s Keats.”

“Keats?”

“Do you not like it?” Martin asked defensively.

“I didn’t say that,” laughed Jon. “I was just surprised is all. You don’t seem like a ‘Keats.’”

Martin furrowed his brow. “What do I seem like then?”

“Like a Martin,” Jon replied.

“Boo!”

“What? Why are you booing me?”

“Don’t be boring,” said Martin.

“I’m not being boring, your name just suits you.”

“Boo!”

“Alright,” said Jon, a little annoyed. “What do I look like then?”

“You look like an Arthur,” Martin replied, very matter of factly.

“Arthur?” Jon wrinkled his nose, but Martin remained resolute.

“You heard me.”

“Like the king or the aardvark?” he asked.

“Just the name.” Martin shot at Jon a shit-eating grin. “It suits you.”

“Boo to you too,” Jon laughed. “Pick a card, Keats.”

Martin rifled through the pile and picked a card from the middle. “Ha! This is a dumb one.” He set his face to be a mask of seriousness. “Do you have a crush?”

“Was this game made by teenagers?” Jon asked.

“You’re stalling, _Arthur_ ,” said Martin, face still stone.

“Martin,” Jon said, running a hand through his hair lazily. “We’re dating.”

Martin gave Jon a look of surprise. “We are?”

“We spent a movie making out!” Jon reminded him, gesturing towards _Die Hard_ offhandedly. “We live together in a little Scottish cabin!”

“I don’t know!” Martin exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “That could mean anything!”

“I traversed the Lonely to save you!”

“You jumped into the Buried to save Daisy, and _she_ tried to kill you,” Martin pointed out.

Jon grabbed Martin's hand and looked deeply into his eyes. “Martin Keats Blackwood,” he said, cupping his free hand to Martin’s cheek. “I love you.”

“You...do?” Martin breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

“Of course. More than anything. How could I not?”

Martin looked down at his and Jon’s hands. “A lot of people don’t.”

Jon squeezed them. “Fuck them.”

Martin laughed in surprise. “Jon! You cursed!”

“I have been known to do so on occasion.”

“I’ve never heard you curse before,” Martin said. “It sounds very dignified in your accent.”

Jon furrowed his brow at Martin again. “We have the same accent,” he reminded him.

“No we don’t. Yours is very…” Martin struggled for words. “Posh.”

“Posh?”

“Posh.” Martin tapped Jon on the nose. “And you haven’t answered the question.”

“Fine,” laughed Jon. "I do have a crush.”

“Should I be jealous?” Martin asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jon nodded solemnly. “Oh definitely. He’s very handsome. Stupid middle name, but his tea is to die for.”

Martin was blushing fiercely. “Just pick a card, Jon.”

Jon drew a card from the bottom of the pile and held it up. It was green and white, and black and red on the back. He frowned. “This is just an UNO reverse card.”

“We don’t even have UNO here, how is that possible?”

“I’m not sure,” Jon said, fighting his mind from Knowing the information. “But it’s a good thing we don’t have UNO because I would destroy you.”

Martin gasped. “Bullshit!”

“Au contraire.” Jon shook his head knowingly. “You are talking to a bonafide UNO god.”

“There’s no such thing! UNO is a game of luck!”

Jon leaned up against Martin and whispered into his ear. “Spoken like someone who’s bad at UNO.”

“Those are fighting words, Jonathan Sims,” Martin warned.

“And those are stalling words. Answer the question. Do you have a crush?”

“Yes,” Martin said, resolute. “His name is Arthur and he’s apparently very competitive when it comes to UNO.” He kissed Jon on the forehead. “My turn to draw then. What’s your favorite song?”

“I repeat my statement about this game being made by a teenager,” grumbled Jon. “But that’s a tough one.”

“Is it?”

“I like a lot of music,” Jon explained.

“You do?”

“Jesus, Martin, do you think I just sat in my flat in silence for hours?” Jon leaned back into the couch and gave Martin a loving, albeit judgemental glance.

“I mean, a little bit.”

“Hm,” Jon mused. “I think it’s _I Want to Kiss You_ by the Spook School.”

Martin sat straight up on the floor, eyes and smile wide. “What?”

“Have you never heard of them?” Jon asked, amused.

“No,” Martin admitted. “And I didn’t think your favorite song would be some indie song called _I Want to Kiss You_.”

“It’s a very good song.”

Martin’s expression softened and he leaned into the couch, face close to Jon’s. “Could you...sing it for me?” he asked.

“I’m a rubbish singer,” warned Jon, cheeks hot from the earnestness on Martin’s face.

“I don’t care.” 

Jon blushed even harder and tried to collect himself. “Alright. Um...” Jon covered his face. “God, I can’t do it if you’re looking at me like that.”

Martin grinned and turned around. “I’m looking away.”

“Alright,” Jon said. “Alright.”

“Come on, McConaughey,” laughed Martin.

“Shut up, Martin,” grumbled Jon, and he cleared his throat. “I want to kiss him/I want to kiss her/I want to run my fingers through your hair/And hear you say you’ve never done this before/With someone like me/I want to run my fingers through your hair/And tell you that I’ve never done this before/With someone like you/With someone like you/With someone like you.” And Jon buried his face in his hands.

“Wow,” gasped Martin.

“I told you I was rubbish,” murmured Jon through his hands.

“No, you were excellent. I just...” Martin gently pulled a hand from Jon’s face and held it. “I just never thought of you as such a romantic.”

“I am not!” Jon snapped.

“Oh, yes you are,” said Martin. “That was some romantic nonsense right there.”

“It’s just the first stanza.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Does it get less romantic?”

Jon made a face at Martin. “No.”

They were silent for a moment. After a beat, Martin spoke. “Could you sing more?” he asked in barely a whisper.

“We can just listen to the song,” Jon reminded him.

Martin rubbed the top of Jon’s hand with his thumb. “I like it when you sing.”

Jon glared at him. “Liar.”

“Honest!” Martin laughed. “It’s nice. You have a lovely voice.”

Jon’s cheeks were burning and he looked at the floor. “Aren’t we in the middle of a game?” he asked.

“I’m learning so much about you today. You’re a romantic, you’re very competitive.” Martin rested his head on Jon’s shoulder. “You've got a lovely singing voice. You curse. That one was the real shocker if I’m being perfectly honest.”

“All I’ve learned about you is that your middle name is Keats and you think my accent is posh,” Jon griped, kissing the top of Martin’s head.

“Then ask another question.”

“But the cards are all the way over there,” Jon said softly. “And you’re right here.”

Martin eyed the abandoned cards. “Did either of us win?”

“Maybe you. You learned the most, I suppose,” Jon admitted, resting his head on top of Martin’s. “But that’s because we weren’t playing UNO.”

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone listen to the Spook School, they're really good! Also how's everyone doing after today's episode? Is it bad? I'm doing bad. Spiders? In the throat? No. No thank you. No spiders in the throat for me.


End file.
